A Woman Named Smith Part 23

CHAPTER XII

MAN PROPOSES

The Author closed the door and leaned against it. His piercing glance jumped from Nicholas Jelnik's face to mine, with a prolonged and savage scrutiny. No detail of my appearance escaped him--my reddened eyelids, my pallor, my nervousness, my dishevelment. His eyes narrowed, his jaw hardened.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, roughly. "Come! At least one may hope for the truth from _you_!"

Mr. Jelnik gave him a level look. There was that in it which brought an angry red to The Author's thin face.

"Let me answer for her: just at present Miss Smith is getting ready to go home."

The Author struggled to keep his rising temper in hand.

"I asked you a plain question, Miss Smith!" His peremptory tone jangled my strained nerves.

"Mr. Jelnik has answered you: I am getting ready to go home."

The Author stamped.

"Don't talk nonsense! Again I ask you, what are you doing here? Have you lost your senses? Why have you been weeping? It is plain that you have been weeping. Miss Smith, why do I find you here--alone?"

"I do not like your manner of questioning me," I said, indignantly.

"My dear fellow," protested Mr. Jelnik, "you _are_ behaving unmannerly, you know. The simple truth is, I was so fortunate as to be of a.s.sistance to Miss Smith. She had an unpleasant experience--fell and gave her head such a nasty b.u.mp, that it made her faint. I'm afraid I splashed her a bit when I was trying to revive her. I thought best to bring her here and give her a stimulant. She didn't want to stagger home and alarm the whole household unnecessarily."

"Is this true?" The Author asked me, rudely.

"You heard what Mr. Jelnik said!" I flamed.

"One allows somewhat more license to genius than might be accorded ordinary mortals; but really, you know, there are limits," Mr.

Jelnik reminded him. "You're beginning to be rather a nuisance. It's unfortunate to have to remind a man, in one's own house, that he's a nuisance."

"I think you are, too!" I told The Author--"bursting into people's houses like an East-Side policeman, asking outrageous questions in an outrageous manner, and then questioning the answers one is patient enough to give you! What right have you got to ask _any_ questions?"

"I'd rather like to know that, myself," put in Mr. Jelnik.

The Author straightened his shoulders, drew himself up to his full height, and folded his arms. He is an impressively tall man.

"Should you?" said he, quietly. "Well, I'll tell you--the right of an honest man to protect the woman he happens to want to marry."

I sat down, suddenly. I'm afraid my eyes popped, and I know my mouth fell open. I had the doubtful satisfaction of seeing Mr. Nicholas Jelnik's eyes and mouth open, too. After an astounded moment:

"Isn't this rather sudden?" wondered Mr. Jelnik. "Who'd suspect this fellow of volcanic possibilities?"

"I do Miss Smith no dishonor when I ask her to be my wife," said The Author, haughtily. "_I_ am no adventurer. She can never suspect _me_ of ulterior motives!"

"Heavens, no! Like Caesar's wife, you are above suspicion; which, of course, gives you the right to suspect everybody else! But you were about to propose to Miss Smith in due form, were you not? Miss Smith, you will permit me to withdraw? I have never before been a third party to a proposal of marriage, and I confess I do not exactly understand what is expected of me," said Mr. Jelnik, delicately.

The Author smiled wryly.

"You succeed in making me appear a fool," he admitted. "That is no mean achievement, young man! I merely wished to set myself straight with Miss Smith, to leave her no room for doubt as to my absolute honesty of purpose toward her; and you," said The Author, gulping, "you have made me _bray_! I wish you'd clear out. You _are_ in the way, if you want the truth. And," he added, clenching his hands, "you can think yourself lucky that you're getting out with a whole skin, da--confound you!"

Mr. Jelnik smiled so sweetly that I was terrified.

"Oh, a whole skin!" he repeated, thoughtfully. "My good sir, I was born with a whole skin, and I rather expect to die with one." He looked at The Author reflectively: "Of course, I don't know what Miss Smith's feelings may be in regard to you, _but_ if I thought you were seriously annoying her, I give you my word I should pitch you out of the window without further ado. Miss Smith," he turned to me, his eyes gentling with compa.s.sion, "I am more sorry than I can say that you should be called upon to endure this further strain.

You will, I trust, forgive my unwilling share in it. Now, shall I leave you?"

"No, stay," said I, flatly.

Mr. Jelnik sat down, and with unruffled composure, waited for The Author to unbosom himself further.

"Miss Smith," The Author spoke after a pause,--and oh, I give him credit for his courage at that trying moment!--"Miss Smith, I have placed myself, and you also, in what appears to be rather an absurd position. I am sorry. But I meant exactly what I said. I base my right to question you upon the fact that I intended asking you to marry me. You need a protector, if ever woman did. I offer you the protection of my name."

I sat on the divan and stared at him owlishly. He went striding up and down the room, pausing every now and then to look down at me.

"When I came to Hyndsville," he went on, "nothing was farther from my thoughts than the desire to marry _anybody_. I have never considered myself a marrying man. But I find myself liking you, Miss Smith, better than I have ever liked any other woman, and for better reasons. You would make me an excellent wife, the only sort of wife a man like me could endure. And I think I should make you a good husband. I am not really so great a bear," he added, hastily, "as at times I appear to be. I should really try to make you happy. Now then, what have you to say?"

What could any woman say in such circuit stances? _I_ said nothing, but slid down on Nicholas Jelnik's divan and howled.

"Didn't I tell you she'd had a bad time and wasn't herself? Now I hope you're satisfied!" raged Mr. Jelnik.

"It's as much your fault as mine!" snarled The Author. "Miss Smith, for heaven's sake don't cry like that! My dear girl, stop it. You run me distracted, Miss Smith!--Give her some vinegar or something, Jelnik! Confound you, Jelnik!--why don't you do something? Burn a feather under her nose! Make her stop it, Jelnik! She'll kill herself, if she keeps on crying like that! Here!" cried The Author, desperately; and tried to push back my hair and all but scalped me.

"Get away!" said Mr. Jelnik. "I'll try to quiet her. Miss Smith, if you don't stop crying, I shall slap you! Do you understand me, Miss Smith? Stop it this minute, or I shall slap you!" He thrust an arm around my shoulders and pulled me erect, none too gently.

"I--I--I ca-ca-ca--n't!"

"You can!" he snapped. "Stop it! Sophy, _shut up!_"

I was so astonished that in the middle of a howl I blinked, and gasped, and gulped, and stopped!

"Ring the bell, by the door," Mr. Jelnik told The Author, curtly.

And when Daoud appeared, he ordered: "Cordial--top shelf; and some ice-water."

Five minutes later a forlorn and red-eyed wreck was sitting up looking at two wretched, embarra.s.sed men. Thank Heaven, they looked just as miserable as they should have felt! Daoud brought me scented water, and I bathed my face. Then I patted into shape the hair that The Author had pulled awry, and said in the cold, accusing, I-die-a-martyr-to-your-stupidity voice that women punish men with:

"I think I shall go home."

With a chastened, hang-dog air The Author rose to accompany me, casting a withering look upon Mr. Nicholas Jelnik, who despised The Author for a bungling and intrusive idiot, and let his glance convey the fact. He was sorry for me, with a compa.s.sionate understanding of what I had been through. But I wanted neither his sorrow nor his compa.s.sion. He had punished The Author, but he hadn't saved _me_ from a ridiculous and painful situation. I gave him a limp hand, and had the satisfaction of leaving him thoroughly uncomfortable.

When we reached our gate The Author, who had trudged beside me in gloomy silence, laid his hand upon my arm.

"I shall not ask you to answer me at once. But I do ask you to consider carefully what I have said, and to realize that I mean every word of it. And--and--I'm sorry it came about in this wise, Sophy," he finished, with a touch of compunction.

"So am I." And then I went up-stairs, and crept into bed. My head ached frightfully, my heart throbbed and fluttered. I was so unnerved that it seemed a burden to be alive. And then, mercifully, I fell asleep, and didn't wake until Alicia brought me a breakfast-tray the next morning.

"My goodness, Sophy, you must have had a terrific headache!" she exclaimed. "Why, your lips are bloodless, and you've black circles under your eyes!"